Conversation · Dolores Dei

"It's a good thing I'm already passed out and bleeding this time. Otherwise I'd pass out again."

"Being a police detective, I have performed a handwriting analysis on this, so I know it was you."

"It doesn't matter anymore."

"We will always have what was." She leans on her hand luggage and smiles faintly: "I will always be influenced by it. But it is over. Now only total, unrelenting hell remains."

"Don't go..."

"I have to, Harry. Really, I've already missed the 8:30..." Her fingers wrap around the bag handle. "I'm gonna go now..."

No! Don't say it. Don't beg. It will only make her go!

(It's all I have left.) "Please..."

Wait, yes! I have other questions first. Where's the list?

Yes! Somewhere hidden among the options popping up in your nervous system... is the right one. That will make her love you again, and not go to the aerodrome at all!

Swallow.

"You know what this means."

"Is it mine?"

"Of course not." She looks down at her belly, then up into your old eyes...

"I terminated yours. Don't you remember, you poor fuck? Poverty-stricken fuck."

"It's not mine."

"Of course not." She looks down at her belly, then up into your old eyes...

Move your mouth.

Nothing, just pillows against you. Unresponsive... but for the taste of apricots.

Apricot scented chewing gum.

Your feet still tremble from the steps you took -- as if over an enormous distance -- standing against her; her body close to you, radiating warmth. With your eyes closed you move your lips on her mouth.

"Can you stay for a moment? We need to talk. We need to have one more massive, epic showdown."

"No, Harry." She shakes her head sadly. "No. I don't want a massive, epic showdown. I want to go to the aerodrome. I have tickets for the 10:20 flight to Mirova..." She looks at you plaintively. "Really..."

"We don't have anything to talk about anymore. Every combination of words has been played out. The atoms don't form us anymore: us, our love, our unborn daughters..."

"It's all gone. I have to go to the aerodrome. I have to leave Revachol and you. And you have to be alone -- in hell, forever. That's just the way it is."

Oh god, whatever you do, don't try to kiss her yet -- not after that, you're still reeling... you'll fall over if you try it now...

"H-hey."

"Hey."

Say nothing.

She breathes out, impatiently.

"'Hey'? That's all I get?" (Smile.)

"I mean -- hey to you too?" she says apprehensively.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have bothered you."

"Yes." She looks over her shoulder again. "I mean no. But I am in a hurry."

"How are you doing?"

"I'm doing really good, actually. Both professionally and romantically. I've come to a fulfilling and peaceful period in my life." She nods hastily. "How are you doing, Harry?"

"I'm in my head. I miss you."

"Well, I'm in my head too. We're all in our heads."

"Do you miss me there?"

"Sometimes... Not as often as I used to. So much time has passed. More than it seems here..." She stares at her feet -- the zebra stripes on the intersection. The lights of the video rental glow in her hair.

This is everything I always warned you about.

"Okay. I'll go back into mine then."

She doesn't reply. You're back in your head. There's silence.

Desperation is gearing up.

"I solved the entire case of the hanged man."

"Wow, see? The entire case..." She smiles. It's another sad smile, with knitted brows.

She is trying to muster enthusiasm.

"I told you -- good things can still happen."

"I guess, yeah."

"Exactly, now..." She glances over her shoulder. You hear distant traffic. An airship passes overhead, dogs bark somewhere.

"It changes nothing."

"Don't say that... I know this positive thing sounds stupid to you, Harry, but it works. We all have an obligation to be happy. You too. And you will be. Now..." She looks over her shoulder...

"I'm not doing very well."

"I'm dying. In a ruined flak tower. Blood is dripping down my chest..."

"God, Harry..." She shakes her head, her eyebrows knitting together with worry.

"You have to take care of yourself. You're not a young man anymore. If you keep going like this you'll..." She falls silent.

"I discovered a new species."

"Wow -- see? A new species..." She smiles. It's another sad smile, with knitted brows.

"What's in the bag?"

"Just my scepter, my globe crucigère, a spare silk gown. A toothbrush. Travel documents. The Crown of Immortality."